


change (for better, or for worse; til death do us part)

by invader



Category: Popee the Performer (Anime)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, For the most part, Future!Popee, Gen, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loneliness, Other, References to Depression, Scientist!Popee, Self-Hatred, Strained Relationships, self-neglect, techincally, this is my interpretation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invader/pseuds/invader
Summary: Thirteen years after leaving the Zirkus, Popee’s life has blurred together into a replay of the same things, over and over.That, too, will change.





	1. Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings this chapter:
> 
> Descriptions of burning (starts at “He’s burning, he’s _burning_ ”, end at “He pushes the handle with a shaky hand”)
> 
> descriptions of vomiting (starts at “He throws back his covers”, ends at “He pushes the handle with a shaky hand”)

_Thirteen years ago —_

_Popee latches his trunk shut, securing the last of his belongings._

_The small, closet-sized room held many traces of him, but he wouldn’t need them. He packed his necessities into an old backpack and a duffle bag– clothes, his toothbrush, a few personal things._

_He was ready._

_Popee slung the duffle bag across his body and hoists the backpack over his shoulders. He takes one last look at his room before exiting, not bothering to close the door behind him._

_Folded on his desk sit a plush pink bunny hat and a red and white striped costume, left behind._

* * *

  _Present_ —

It’s the same routine every morning, really.

Popee wakes up before his alarm, brushes his teeth, and changes into his work clothes. He does his hair– two quick pigtails, as always– and is in the kitchen by 6:15. By 6:20, he’s got a cup of coffee and a meager breakfast of a piece of dry toast.

By 6:30, he’s already washing his dishes– if he set them off for later, they wouldn't get done. 6:40, he’s heading out the door.

Popee arrives at work at precisely 7:10.

Earlier than his coworkers (even the ones that work earlier)– but he prefers it. He doesn't have to navigate their social whims or pretend to care about pictures of someone's child. He can get to his lab without fuss and start working.

And work he does.

Popee’s lab is best described as _organized chaos_. _He_ knows where everything is, for the most part, but anyone else would have a hard time finding anything that isn’t labeled (which, admittedly, is quite a bit).

His lab table is covered in blueprints and hardware, wires and screws– something complicated and fragile-looking sits next to a large apparatus with a glass front and wires sticking out of an exposed panel. There are _several_ garage organizers, on the counters and on the wall, where he keeps smaller things and several tools organized and labeled. Aside from what’s on his lab table, anyway.

Popee hangs up his coat and bag. He switches the coffee-maker on as he passes it on his way to his drafting table. Moving a well-bookmarked organizer off the surface, Popee picks up his drafting pencil and gets to work. 

* * *

The workday _officially_ ends at six o’clock in the evening, but Popee tends to work a bit (or a lot, sometimes) later. His coworkers have long since given up on asking him to join them for drinks, and his boss stopped caring. 

Tonight, he leaves at ten o’clock, with his blueprints and journal tucked into his bag.

It takes about five minutes to get to the train station, which is about as crowded as usual–the last train leaves at midnight, and most people are sensible enough to head home before then. On a weekday, anyway. The ride itself takes twenty, and the walk home takes ten additional minutes.

Popee doesn’t bother announcing his return anymore. There’s no one else living with him, so there’s no point.

He continues to work on his blueprints over a microwave dinner. He forgets his food while working and eats it mostly-cold after a good forty minutes. It’s tough to get down, but he manages to finish it. 

Continuing his nightly routine, Popee tosses his garbage and tucks away his work. He’s not going to get much further tonight, so he may as well just stop. After a quick shower, he brushes his teeth and heads to bed. 

Sleeping is a very finicky thing for Popee. Sometimes it’s the easiest thing in the world, sometimes he’s lucky if he manages to sleep for even an hour. Regardless, he always wakes up feeling exhausted, deep bags under his eyes.

Tonight, sleep doesn’t come easy. Still, Popee eventually drifts off.

* * *

  _He spits the bullet onto the ground, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He’s eager, excited for the next one, and tells Papi to bring it on. Kedamono glances at their mentor nervously as he’s handed a rocket launcher._

_But Popee isn't afraid– he caught that bullet, didn't he?_

_He grins, and motions for them to bring it, once more._

_The last thing he sees is fire._

* * *

 He’s burning, he’s _burning_ , oh God, oh _God_.

Popee sits up in bed, rigid. He’s gasping, the taste of smoke and weaponry in his throat– it’s _sickening_.

 He throws back his covers, making a dash for the bathroom. His shaky hand flips the light switch, and he immediately keels over the toilet, unable to keep the bile in his stomach at bay.

 These dreams, too, were routine– more or less. They’re not always as _vivid_ , and sometimes he awakes with little more than a cold sweat and the feeling of unease.

 Popee stays there for a bit, catching his breath and trying to keep himself from heaving again. Eventually, he settles down, slumping next to the toilet– he no longer feels his skin bubbling and blistering and _burning_ from the heat, no longer feels his senses assaulted by the phantom of a missile tearing into his body.

 He pushes the handle with a shaky hand and stands on equally unsteady feet. He washes his face, then heads back to bed.

Popee tries to go back to sleep and manages to drift off, slightly. It’s not a restful sleep, and he finds himself jolting awake every so often, losing the illusion of peace.

All in all, it’s been a normal day, really.


	2. Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kedamono's side.

Kedamono carefully adjusts the pup on his back as he walks, checking the knot on the cloth he’s using as a baby carrier. The pup—also Kedamono, though technically Kedamono Jr., or just Junior—is asleep, his head resting against Kedamono’s back. 

Kedamono was surprised, to say the least, when he awoke one morning to—of all things— _ a pup  _ on his doorstep. After his initial shock, he was  _ terrified _ at the prospect of  _ oh god whose baby is this _ , followed by the realization  _ he looks exactly like me,  _ finally arriving at  _ oh my god I have a son— _ the fact of which is indisputable; he looks just like Kedamono, the only difference being the slightest change of hue of their fur.

At first, he had absolutely no clue what he was to do with the pup. He didn’t know  _ anything _ about babies, and he sure as hell wasn't prepared to care for one. 

But Kedamono found that even though it was tiring (and, quite honestly, terrifying) he loved Junior. There was an incident in the beginning, sure, but Kedamono’s mother's’ side was the same—just like Kedamono himself. So he made the pup a mask, like his own, and that was that. 

Once Junior had settled in, and Kedamono accepted him as a part of his life, he started to think. He thought of the future, and thought about what would be best for Junior.

The desert was pretty empty. He didn’t have a job; he had been able to sustain himself, so there hadn’t been a need for one. There wasn’t really much in the desert at all, including the little town he lived in. The town wasn’t  _ bad _ , it was nice and peaceful, and he had had a few neighbors—a very, very old lady who slept on on her porch all day (Kedamono had thought she was dead, if he was being honest) and, surprisingly, Alien, who had a little alien wife, and little alien children, and wore glasses now. That was...a strange reunion. There was also a little dirt house, only a couple of feet tall, with its own little mailbox and a tiny car in the driveway. That was the real shock, honestly, because who lived there but  _ Frog _ , with (what Kedamono assumed were) his little frog children.

Once, Kedamono looked out his window and into the little window of Frog’s house, only to see Frog pour himself a glass of what looked like whiskey with his tongue and swallow it whole.

It had been incredibly bizarre.

Regardless, Kedamono wanted more to offer Junior than sand and heat.

Returning to the Zirkus was an option—but one he quickly shut down. He wouldn’t subject his son to that. The very land the Zirkus called home was cursed, and although he was grateful to Papi for taking him in, the man was far too intense.

So, Kedamono decided to pack up. He’d take Junior and find someplace he could get a job, and where Junior could go to school in the future. Somewhere that wasn’t sand and dry ground as far as the eye can see, and where the air wasn’t chokingly dry and dusty. 

Somewhere that wasn’t empty and unforgiving like the desert. 

Right now, they were on some road–a real, actual road made from tarmac, walking along until they either found somewhere to stop, or they could flag a car down and hitch-hike. Not the most conventional way of travel, but what can you do?

It’s roughly six o’clock in the evening, now–they’re hundreds of miles from home already, having already been on the road for nearly a week. Supplies are starting to run low, and Kedamono isn’t sure what to do. His map (outdated as it was) had another city within 30 miles of the one they’d left, so what was wrong? And he’d see none of the landmarks, though that mountain over there looks sort of…

Kedamono accidentally jostles Junior as he quickly pulls out his map and confirms his realization: they’d been going in the opposite direction the entire time. The mountain is on the map, not far from the road they must be on–now what?

Some God must be listening, Kedamono thinks, because a pick-up truck starts coming up the road and he quickly signals it, and they  _ actually stop _ . He goes over to the window and approaches the driver.

“You look like you could use a ride.” The driver says; she’s quite beautiful, half of her head is buzzed and the other half is a soft red color, matching the many piercings decorating her ears, and Kedamono would certainly flirt with her if he hadn’t other priorities. 

“Yes! Thank you so much, we need to get to the city and we’ve been walking for days, and Junior is–” Kedamono starts, but is stopped. 

“Oh whoa, okay, I get it, just get in and you can tell me while we drive, yeah?” The woman says. Kedamono just tiredly nods and goes around to the other side of the car to the passenger’s seat, tucking Junior around to his front before climbing in and buckling up.

“Cute kid.” The woman says as she starts driving. Then she prompts him to tell his story, and he gives her the vaguest details, too tired to really get into it. She doesn’t mind–tells hi to go to sleep and she’ll wake him when it’s his stop.

Kedamono doesn’t need to be told twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no update  
> next update will be sooner...sorry for the sub-par quality of the latter half of the chapter, i really had to push this out and intend to revise it later.  
> anyhoo!  
> comments, kudos & criticisms are appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> first two things:
> 
> 1\. chapter two is in limbo, I’ve got a LOT of cleaning up to do before I can post it
> 
> 2\. please leave me feedback & criticisms, I just. decided to go ahead and post this after staring at it since May so I mean. It might not be perfect
> 
> yeah. I’ve been working on this since january which is why nothing else has been updated lmao
> 
> also literally all of you need Jesus


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